


Go and kiss her

by Zeta_Mei



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Brienne is such a sweet plum, Bronn and Tyrion Being Idiots, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Genna Lannister is the Best, Jaime Lannister Being an Idiot, Misunderstandings, Modern AU, Non-Consensual Kissing, Surprise Kissing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:08:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeta_Mei/pseuds/Zeta_Mei
Summary: "Go and kiss her', Tyrion has said.Tyrion has also said that it would have been easy like breathing, and Jaime has trusted him. A pity that now breathing is getting a bit difficult, with all that blood spilling from his nose."Or, Tyrion tricks Jaime into participating in a game show edited by KL's University Web Tv - a sort of Deal With It in which a student must do weird and risky tasks for a cash reward in front of a relative - but he kisses the wrong wench.Or maybe she's the right one for him, who knows?
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 71
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Day 0**

**15 seconds after the kiss**

"Go and kiss her", Tyrion has said.

Tyrion has also said that it would have been easy like breathing, and Jaime has trusted him. A pity that now breathing is getting a bit difficult, with all that blood spilling from his nose.

Aunt Genna is looking at him like he’s an alien with a couple of green antennas, and the wench… she’s crimson, angry, and mortified.

Gods be blessed, her lips are even more swollen now, and Jaime aches and wants to kiss her again.

In the end, he’s not an alien, he has just one damned nose, and she has already broken it. She can break every of his fucking bones, if it pleases her. And if it would help to chase the hurt from those big eyes of hers, Jaime would gladly give up to his right hand, his joystick hand - only for her.

"I swear, I don't know why they're all laughing", he wants to tell her, but in the while that aunt Genna helps him on his feet, she's already gone. And Jaime doesn't even know her name, only that she tastes like a plum, one of those soft, juicy plums that explode like tiny supernovas in your mouth, filling it with sweetness. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Day -1**

**33 hours to the kiss**

“You’ll see, Jaime. It’s going to be funny, and easy like breathing. Bronn is a friend of mine, and he grants there will be nothing of obscene, just a coffee apparently too hot, a surprise kiss...”

“No way, Ty.”

“Pleeease, bro. I need the money, you know, Father says I waste any penny in wine and whores..."

"Father's right."

"He is, but aunt Genna is a smart woman. She likes enjoying life, like me, and she’ll laugh a lot, when she’ll see the camera.”

“It’s a stupid show for even stupider students, Tyrion. I’m not going to kiss any wench.” Jaime says, categorical. The last time he has kissed a girl, it was Cersei. No matter if it had passed a lot of time since he has found her abed with Patrek "Moon Boy" Lefford, it still hurts. 

“Wench? You should have born during the Maiden Queen era, bro. Come on, we're not talking about a real kiss, it’s all fake, with an actress…”

“Actress? Just another stupid student who wants to have her pretty face online for five minutes.”

“Pretty face? Of course, the prettiest ones. Any student would like to be in your place. Bronn says that even Margaery Tyrell and the lovely Martell you like so much have signed for some ambushes, maybe not this one, but…”

“Elia? She’s dating Rhaegar Targaryen, and that guy is a too a prim and an asshole to allow her…”

“Gods, Jaime, please stop playing all the time at that videogame with armors and magic swords, you’re probably the only one who still doesn’t know. Rhaegar has lost his head for Big Bobby Baratheon’s girlfriend, a certain Lyanna who is wildly hot but not that special, and it ended with a brawl, and with both father and brother of the girl at the hospital. Second-degree burns on half the body of the father, whilst Lyanna’s brother has almost strangled himself in the attempt to help his father, and they’ve been lucky.”

“What?” Jaime is appalled. 

“Rhaegar’s father. Unluckily, he was out of the asylum. He was behaving well, they say.”

Jaime blinks, and feels really sorry for that Lyanna, and relieved for Elia. Rhaegar is only a jerk. Oberyn Martell is another jerk, but his sister Elia is such a nice girl. Not beautiful like Cersei, but very sweet, and shy. He’d like to be kissed again, maybe – if it’s going to be a sweet, and shy, kiss.

Tyrion grins, because that little wretched thing is far too clever and he had known from the beginning that Jaime would say yes to his evil plan. It's always the same story, yet Jaime can’t help but love him all the same, and, as his big brother, he has to protect him, so yielding is like keeping a sacred vow, more or less. Jaime feels almost a knight, and smiles.

He just lacks the fair maiden. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Day O**

**30 minutes to the kiss.**

The book is really intriguing, she has never known that the Giant of Lannister was a little person. 

KL’s University has really a great library, immense compared to Storm’s End. Everything here is huge, and Brienne has finally the opportunity to get unnoticed, or not excessively noticed, at least.

She’s too tall for hoping of being invisible, and in fact that guy is looking at her in an odd way that she doesn’t like, at all. Luckily, he’s in the coffee shop with his mother or his aunt, she has his same golden hair, and looks a nice woman. A bit uncomfortable with the place, or maybe only with the chair, that creaks soundly when the massive woman sits.

The lady smiles at Brienne, and Brienne smiles her back, then comes back to the book and the smoothie, pleasantly relaxed. A boy with such a kind kin can’t be that bad, in the end, and Red Ronnet, Hyle and the other assholes are far, far away.

It's a new day, a new life for Brienne, and she's sure things are going to change, and in better, for her. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 0**

**15 minutes to the kiss**

“Jaime, darling, stop staring at that girl, please. She’s barely eighteen,” whispers aunt Genna from the other side of the little squared table.

Which girl? Jaime can’t see no girl, only an absurdly tall wench, who’s drinking a smoothie, blue like her eyes. Obviously, there’s no trace of Elia Martell, the Others take Tyrion and his damned accomplice.

Jaime drifts his glance and dares a faint smile, with Bronn’s voice buzzing non-stop in his ear.

> _And now our brave Jaime will prove all his worth with a classic of candid camera shows: the hooooooot coffee mug! Ready, Jaime? Say the word ‘banana’, to start the game, and win your first hundred dragons. BA-NA-NA!_

A sentence with the word “banana”. Easy. Aunt Genna won’t pinch Jaime’s ear in front of all the world only because he has said the word “banana”.

“Jaime, are you well?”

“Well? I’m ok, it’s a such a nice day and it’s all perfect here, I was just wondering why that wench doesn’t leave her banana hair loose, just to hide a bit all those freckles on her …collarbone.”

“Wench? Banana hair? Jaime, I repeat, are you well?”

“Banana? Straw hair, not banana hair. BA-NA-NA!”

The wench turns, and glares at him. Well, Jaime’s a pleasant sight, at least, and his nose has never been broken, like hers has been. Beautiful men have the right to shout a bit, and big brothers have the right to strangle their little brothers, as Tyrion will learn soon. Very soon. Bronn laughs in the microphone and it’s suddenly too hot in the little coffee shop.

“Jaime, I don’t think you’re supposed to shout in public”, aunt Genna hisses. 

> _Well done, ser. Shout and gain money, your coffee is coming! With a special guest star…. Go old smuggler, go!_

Mr. Davos Seaworth himself is approaching their table with a frozen facial expression and a couple of coffee mugs. Davos Seaworth, the legendary man who has begun working as an onion seller at the market, and has ended to have a dozen shops and the title of Onion Rings King. Jaime is stunned, the wench, instead, seems concentrate on her book, a tome about… the Giant of Lannister, can it be real? No, it can’t be. The only copy of that book is conserved in the Rock library.

> _Wow, our Davos has really impressed Jaime’s lovely auntie, judging form how she flutters her lashes! Sorry, Butter Lady, the man has a bunch of children and a devoted wife… Come on, Jaime, the coffee is not really hot, so do your best to be persuasive, and remember, if the mug flies high enough and gets enough smiles, you’ll be allowed to skip a test and go directly to the last step, the ultimate step._

The last step is the kissing step, with an actress. A pretty one. It can’t be the wench, she’s ugly and looks damned a serious one. Yet, the book in her huge hands… it must be Tyrion’s way to tell him that she’s the one. 

> _Ready, Jaime?_

Jaime isn’t ready. The shop is beginning to be a little too crowded for his taste. First, Stannis Baratheon with his mustached girlfriend, now even a fucking Stark. The eldest sister, the prettiest, not the terrible one who likes chasing cats and kicking people. 

> _Ready folks? For each ‘smile’ under our Web Banner, a dragon for our Golden Boy! Send us a lot of ‘smiles’, sent our shining knight to the ultimate step!_

Jaime takes the mug to his lips, jerks and the mug flies.

> _Wow! This is a record launch, folks!_

Flies really high, and ends on the Sansa Stark’s head. Sansa is her name, now Jaime recalls her name, and won’t forget it that easily. The girl screams like a slaughtered sheep, while Bronn laughs with no decency. There’s another laugh in the background. Tyrion’s.

“Jaime of House Lannister of Casterly Rock!”, aunt Genna’s yell covers Sansa’s weeping. The tall wench is offering the sobbing girl a handkerchief, it’s a real tissue handkerchief, embroidered with a sun. It’s absurd, no one uses embroidered handkerchiefs in 1300 A.C.

“The coffee was horribly hot”, murmurs Jaime, and feels very small. Anyone would feel small compared to the bosomed Genna Lannister or to the imponent wench, but, decisively, the latter is way too gentle with Sansa Stark, no one is so gentle and caring with a stranger in 1300 A.C. - and there’s the handkerchief and the book she has ostentatiously left on her table. The wench is really the one, fuck.

> _This episode will remain in the history of our University Web Tv, folks! A thousand ‘smiles’, no, a thousand and a half ‘smiles’, in less than a few instants! Practically all the University is watching and supporting you, Jaime!_

Jaime’s throat is parched. The last step is dramatically near, now. The wench is glimpsing again at him, frowning. Another clear signal.

> _Cool down, folks, or we’ll have to resort to the Iron Bank…_

Aunt Genna is babbling something about wasting money for years in the most expensive and prestigious schools, but Jaime can only think to some trick to avoid the jail, after having flayed his wretched brother.

> _We all know what all those ‘smiles’ mean, folks… Jaime, are you ready for your last task? Say the word… freak! Two thousand dragons are waiting for you, Golden Boy._

“Golden boy”, again, and the ugliest wench ever to kiss. Jaime should raise and turns on his heels, now. He’s still in time. Nobody can oblige him to kiss such a hideous, tall, clumsy wench. 

“Freak!”, he repeats, sternly, his palms sweated. He’s a Lannister, and a Lannister never flees. Among all the people in the little shop - now there’s a little army of curious - only the wench starts, and twists on herself. Why is she blushing so heavily if she’s not part of the show? She already knows what’s coming next, it’s evident.

> _Gods bless you, the old and the new ones, Jaime! Show auntie Genna and the Seven Republics how a Lion of the Rock can kiss! Because, folks, it’s time for another classic… the surprise kiss! I'm sure our knight is eager to taste one of our incredibly charming princesses…_

Only an asshole like Bronn can sell the wench as a charming princess. She’s just a tall girl, and very shy, the way she blushes. A poppy in a dreadful coffee shop.

> _… one of our lovely students, of course, but don’t tell our delicious Genna, let’s see her reaction. Till now, she has been a-do-ra-ble._

Yes, it’s adorable the way the wench blushes. A ridiculous, but honest blushing. She’s worried about the kiss like Jaime is, or maybe it’s… _expectation_ that has put her cheeks aflame. Maybe she likes him, a bit, just a bit. He’s handsome, isn’t he?

> _Soooooooooooo. Kissing time! Go and kiss her, Jaime, but first let me present to the public our sweet..._

Of course, he is. Muscled but slender, elegant, gorgeous. He removes the earphone, because he doesn’t want to be bothered by what Bronn he’s saying just now. Jaime Lannister is going to kiss the wench, and makes her remember this day till the end of time.

“Jaime!”, yells aunt Genna. Jaime ignores her and the brazen maid who’s coming straight towards him with a basket full of stinking onion rings – he gets to the wench, and trips her.

She’s soft in his arms, soft and alarmed, the stupid wench. Jaime would have never let her fall, he just needed to have her lips in the right position. Her lips are impossibly red, and full, and her eyes… He smiles his best smile, and leans in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV

**Day 0**

**7 minutes to the kiss**

The creepy guy is really the handsomest she has ever seen. But he must have some issues, he can’t be just fond of bananas like the little monkey of that moron of Mark Mullendore.

Brienne feels the usual cramp at her stomach, the bet still haunting her, like Red Ronnet’s rose. If little Dickon Tarly wouldn’t been annoyed by the fact Hyle and the guys met and planned any move in his favorite place for skating…

She didn’t want to think more about it. The book she’s reading is really fantastic. Even the Giant of Lannister probably had his issues, like the green-eyed guy - according to the historian, a certain Samwell Sea-Crow, the great statist who ruled Westeros for forty years had murdered his own Father because the latter hated him since the cradle, and Brienne can’t believe he can be the same man who went for sea and deserts to find his lost wife, the man who wrote so many beautiful lyrical poems and songs… “Hands of Gold”, has been recently re-arranged by her favorite group, and Brienne hums it and wonders if the mythical knight Goldenhand existed and, if did exist, if he had really hair of spun gold like the guy, who seems agitated, again. It’s a relief his kin don’t leave him alone, not even for a coffee mug.

When his blessed coffee mug hits the poor girl with auburn hair, Brienne immediately goes to her feet and help her cleaning herself - and that look from the guy. Her fingers tremble of indignation, the guy is clearly healthy, and his only disease is his immense ego. She pities the woman with him at the table, she seems outraged like Brienne, who burrows her brows. She shouldn’t have scowled, though, the guy’s revenge is nearly immediate.

“Freak,” he calls her, and she sinks in one of her waking nightmares.

 _My walls are solid_ , she repeats to herself, yet none of her public humiliations has prepared her to what’s happening. He’s smiling. Smiling to her, and there’s no hint of mockery in his smile.

Brienne blinks, and burns outside and inside, and can’t help but gape at him like a perfect idiot, because his eyes shine, his mouth is perfect, he’s perfect.

A shining knight of old songs, ser Goldenhand reborn.

She realizes that the knight has emptied the space between them only when he’s so close that she can feel the heat irradiating from his body, and she basks in his warmth like a cat in the sun before the earth shakes, it must have been an earthquake, because she suddenly loses her balance and finds herself in his arms and the rest, it’s another earthquake, no, a tsunami.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV

**Day 0**

**0 minutes to the kiss**

His kiss catches her totally helpless, her walls a mass of dusty ruins, and she lets the waves flows upon her and drag her along like a piece of driftwood, how can she stem the tide? She can’t, and she doesn’t want.

She just wishes it to last, she wishes to feel as long as she can the soft arrogance of his lips and his tongue, turning on the light where it was dark and lonely, where she was dark and waiting lonely for meeting him again – it’s all new for her, and yet, she has already lived it, under her skin, or in another time. 

When they part, Brienne opens her eyes - he’s there, and looks shaken, and bewildered, like her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV

**Day 0**

**A handful of seconds after the kiss**

It’s just a heartbeat. Then the reality comes back, and has fangs and claws.

“It was _me_ you were supposed to kiss, you dumb of a Lannister”, yells a girl with short dark hair, dressed like a maid, but who looks more a pirate queen than a maid. Someone laughs, no, everyone is laughing. Brienne sees the camera, and her hand closes in a fist and hit, before she can even think.

She even doesn’t know how she has got outside, she simply runs and runs, until it’s suddenly dusk around her, and it’s her mobile who wakes her up from her trance.

“Father.” She steadies her voice. She tries, at least.

“I’ve seen it, Brie, it’s all right, sweet child of mine, I’m coming.”

Seen, what? He father is in Tarth. He’s still talking, but she doesn’t listen to a single word. A couple of teens are looking at her, and chuckling. Another girl, no more than twelve, tugs at Brienne’s t-shirt, she wants a selfie with the maiden of the video. _Maiden_ , the girl actually says and her grey eyes spark when she congratulates Brienne for her amazing jab.

A part of Brienne dies, here, in this street full of neon lights and strangers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for Brie...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion's POV

**Day 1**

**27 hours after the kiss**

“Your damned brother is the stupidest man I’ve ever known, and I’ve known a lot of stupid people, believe me, Imp.”

“He kisses hot, at least,” says Asha Greyjoy with a wicked smile that reminds Tyrion of Shae. He shakes his head, he doesn’t want to think about Shae, now. With no money, she will not let him in, that’s sure, and Bronn will never give him the money that Jaime has won. Not that this is important, now that Jaime prefers ignoring Tyrion and his messages.

“Asha, you seem disappointed, in truth.”

“I am, Bronn, I confess I’m not the kind of girl who disdains a good smooch, and your brother, big Ty, well, he’s really a pretty blond doll.”

“Would you like a pretty dark-haired doll, instead?”

“Nah, I’d like the money you promised me, instead, Bronn.”

“Sorry, my sweet Asha, no kiss no money.”

“You should pay the tall girl, then. How many views and fucking smiles did you get from this mess?”

“More than you may believe, less than the times I'd make you beg me if you allow me in your bed”, Bronn boasts, and put his white teeth in display in a sly smile. Tyrion just wishes him to be hit accidentally by a falling tree, just to see him lying on the ground, wounded and helpless, for a few days. Until a pack of wolves find him.

“Bronn, you must stop this ordeal.”

The dark-haired boy shrugs. “Why? I’ve already received a couple of interesting proposal for my future in the show business, and, in every case, I can’t stop the net, you should know, Imp.”

“The girl will suit you, and peel your skin off, scum.”

“Tsk, tsk, first she’ll have to report your lovely brother, Mighty Tywin Lannister's first son and precious heir", Bronn sneers and opens a bottle of wine. "I'd rather believe that you're really an imp, and not just a wretched dwarf who was eager to sell his own brother for a handful of dragons. Do you want a glass of Red Dornish?"

"You're really a two-legged shit, Bronn."

"I'll take it as a no." The scum lifts his glass, "Long life to our freckled giantess and to her biceps wherever she is, right now! No one has heard about her since that blessed moment in which the Golden Fool of the Rock threw away the earphone and jumped on her like a hungry lion.”

“Truly hungry, yeah”, confirm Asha, licking her lips, and the nausea bites Tyrion's stomach even harder.

“Fuck. I hoped you did know where to find her, at least, Bronn.”

“Nope. If you find her, please let me know. I’ve never fucked one with such long legs.” 

Tyrion glares at Bronn, before leaving. He has to find the girl, and apologize, and make sure she won’t report Jaime, or their father will drown the both of them in a well. Not the same well, probably. A lovely, limpid well for Jaime, a small, filthy well for the dwarf. Tyrion's brooding is beginning to be absurd like all this crazy story.

In the end, it has been all a great misunderstanding, and Tyrion shouldn't feel guilt at all. Jaime has only picked up the wrong girl, and gained a pretty new bruise, but soon their father will have uncles Kev and Tygett cover up everything - they all will forget everything. 

Yet the guilt is here to stay, and Tyrion misses Shae's hands on his sore shoulders so much. 

There’s something more about that kiss, something that Jaime would never admit. A chemistry, no wonder if everyone is talking about that damned video, and Tyrion wonders if it may be the reason of Jaime being so… unrecognizable. When that scheming bitch of Cersei Lydden cheated him, Jaime overreacted, but now…

Asha’s arrival takes Tyrion offguard.

“The girl is new in town, big Ty, but I know where she sleeps, waiting to settle in the campus. A little inn, near the port, where that moron of my brother goes to play billiard with Robb Stark.”

“Which inn?”, asks Tyrion. “How much?”, he adds, seeing the greedy spark in Asha’s eyes.

“Oh, the same money your friend Bronn said I would have gained kissing your bro. Four hundred dragons.”

“Four hundred? It was two hundred, no more.”

Yes, but I was supposed to kiss Jaime-Golden-Ass-Lannister, big Ty. So four hundred. Five hundred into three-two-one..."

"Ok, ok. Why don't you think about Bronn's proposal, Asha? You're the two halves of the same coin, a false coin." 

"Who knows, big Ty, who knows... now my money, please."

Tyrion sighs, and call aunt Genna to borrow the money. Praying the Gods above for the girl not to vanish again, like a raindrop in the fog.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's POV

**Day 1**

**30 hours after the kiss**

Jaime is relieved when her mobile begins to ring.

He loves his auntie, but, whatever she may say, he’s not intentioned of talking, nor raising from the bed, nor shaving. He has a better program. Lying there, in this comfortable mid-darkness, keeping his eyes well shut, waiting for the dream to come back. Jaime’s fucking nose and his hand will heal all by themselves. His nose is not broken, after all, while Red Ronnett’s, instead... Jaime has heard clearly the _crunch_ under his knuckles. Such a lovely sound, but it hasn’t improved Jaime’s mood, in the end. Red Ronnett and the other assholes’ interviews and pictures are still online, a few clicks from Bronn’s trice damned video.

Unfortunately, aunt Genna’s voice is really annoyingly high, and sharp. Jaime can't rest and pities the one on the other side of the call.

“What does it mean that you’ve lost her again, Tyrion?” Oh. It’s Tyrion, and Jaime’s pity evaporates like water on the dornish sand. “The girl’s father has threatened to run over you with his car? Wait, a giant, you’ve said. With light blue eyes? Ah, you hadn’t the time and the height to notice her father’s eyes, and you have no clue of where they are aimed now. My compliments, Tyrion. So helpful, and guess who always says you’re the cleverest of all Lannisters? Yes, it’s me, your stupid aunt Genna. Ok, Tyrion you did your best, now come back and help me with your brother. I’ve never seen him in such a miserable state.”

“Hey, auntie, I’m here, you can’t talk as if I’m not listening.”

“You’re not listening, darling. Or you would have moved your pretty ass, and had a shower. You stink,” she snorts in the mobile. “No, Tyrion, I’m no more talking with you, glad to know you’re also stinking, of course you can come back home. Don’t worry about your father, and your brother is surely eager to see you.”

Jaime jerks and snatches the phone, with its ridiculous cover all pink and gold, from aunt Genna’s fingers. “Eager to see your head on a pike, bro, along with that loyal friend of yours...”

“Sorry”, Tyrion mumbles, and hangs up. 

_Sorry_. Incredibly, Jaime feels uncomfortable after that _sorry._ It’s not Tyrion who has kissed the wench, after all, it’s him, Jaime - aunt Genna’s eyes are proclaiming it loudly. And now the wench’s name is on every filthy mouth of the fucking Seven Republics. The only time Jaime has checked it, the views were about two million, and someone must have recognized Brienne.

Brienne.

It’s hard to figure out that it’s truly the ugly giantess’ name, because Brienne is a gentle name,

a girl’s name, 

and the wench has nothing of a girl - but when Jaime calls her Brienne, the wench of his dream turns, and smiles. A gentle smile.

Her lips have been gentle, too, and Jaime shivers. Winter is coming, maybe winter has already come, for the likes of him.

“So, nephew. Choose. Are you going to spend the rest of your life on a mattress, or are you going to dress decently and follow me to the airport?”

Jaime opens one eye.

Aunt Genna is lifting her index finger to the mouth to warn him, and starts mistreating some other poor fellow who had the bad luck to answer to her phone call. “Kev? No, I don’t need to know what Tywin has just told you, Kev darling, I know Ty can be a bit rude sometimes, no, no, he does appreciate you, I’m sure of it, Kevan. Now shut up and listen to me, please. I need you to call Tygett, he has to impede an airplane to fly. Tonight. Of course, Tygett can, what the use of being such a big one in the secret services… Ok, Tygett’s in the army, officially, and officially Tywin doesn’t rule Westeros. Kev, stop babbling, or I’ll be forced to call directly Tywin. Ok, Kev. No, Kev, I don’t know which flight must be stopped exactly. Any flight to Tarth, leaving tonight or tomorrow from the capital. Thank you, Kevvy, you’re really a puppy. And tell Dorna that her pie was a-we-so-me. You really picked up the perfect woman, Kev, lucky man. Now I have to greet you, Jaime is still in pajama, a worn t-shirt in truth, but he calls it a pajama. Decisively not the garb I’d choose to meet the love of my life. Of course, she is. Kev, I was there, but it’s plain even from the video, have you seen it? Yes, that video is a tragedy, the camera makes me seem a whale. A pretty whale, thank you, Kev. I’m ironic, Kevan. What about calling Tygett now? Time rushes.” 

Now Jaime’s eyes are both open. He doesn’t like the way aunt Genna smiles.

“There’s no other choice, Jaime, they’re surely aimed to the airport. Selwyn Tarth will always seek shelter in his island.”

“Who’s Selwyn Tarth?”

“A college friend of your father, but they quarreled, who knows why. And a giant, a true one, so be always respectful when he will become your good-father, Jaime darling.”

Jaime sinks his head in the pillow and aunt Genna’s voice gets muffled to his ears. “Don’t be that childish, Jaime. You have to apologize, of course, but Selwyn is a good man, and his daughter seems a very kind one, she’ll give you another chance, trust me.”

He pulls the pillow away. “The wench will kill me.”

“The wench?”, aunt Genna chuckles “You’re incurably smitten, my poor Jaime. And stupid, but you're almost a man, and men are such fools. If my beloved husband Emmon would have kissed me at least once with half the passion with which you kissed your wench, he wouldn’t have as many horns as a chest of snails, I grant you. And don’t make that shocked face, now, did you really think your cousin Ty is red-haired because of granny Rohanne?”

Jaime’s mouth opens and closes, then his legs move, beyond his control. Maybe a shower isn’t such a bad idea, after all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion's POV

**Day 1**

**32 hours after the kiss.**

He stinks, he really does. The stink of sweat and failure is upon him, and while his brother’s life is going adrift Tyrion Lannister can’t think of nought but a girl whose laughter haunts his days and his nights. Mostly his nights.

She has such a kind touch, a pity she has not a kind heart.

“I wanna see the money, first, frizzly bear,” says the lady Stoneheart, and her smile is insolent like the nipples pointing out from her white t-shirt.

“Can I pay with a pot of honey?”

She rolls her eyes. Shae has very large eyes, and damn, he loves sinking in those eyes of her more than he loves sinking in her warm, wet cunt.

“You had plenty of dragons a week ago, you surely let other women make fool of you. Why don’t you do right?”

“Shae, you’re the one, the only, I swear…”

“You stink of lies, and not only of lies. Gods’ you’re terribly ugly, with this mess of a hair and without dragons in your pouch, aren’t you?”

“A villain attempted at my life, while I was on a quest,” Tyrion protests.

“A quest? I guess the villain was that red-haired girl whose teats are bigger than mine.” Tyrion raises his chin, and there’s something in Shae’s demeanor, in her clothes. A t-shirt, when has she ever wore a plain t-shirt? And she has skipped her daily legs shaving… no clients, today, or maybe even for a longer time. “Wasn’t Ros satisfied of you? Didn’t you licked her prettily like you do with me?”

“Ros?”, he says, tentatively, and she bits her lips. This Shae fears a lovely but good-just-for-laughing girl like Ros. Then Tyrion realizes which kind of fear it is, and he feels suddenly warm, inside. “You sound quite jealous,” he whispers.

“Jealous of an ugly, wretched dwarf who brings only troubles? Get out of here.”

“Not without a kiss,” he brazenly affirms.

“No kiss, with no money. Get me some money, too.”

“I raise the stakes, Shae. Two pots of honey. You have surely such a golden reserve in the pantry, and I’m so good in licking honey.” She stares at Tyrion, and her smile turns wicked. He’d climb the Wall for her to smile like that at him for, well, a dozen years, twenty, forty years, their entire life? “You know I am. Just for a night, you’ve nothing to lose.” 

Her nostrils flare like a true Lannister’s, but the door is wide open, finally. “Just for once, Tyrion. And only because I’m prey of an insane attack of gluttony. Fault of that fucking video, and all the teeth-rotting chatting about it. A huge number of assholes and haters, of course, but can you imagine? There’s also thousands of people that find it _romantic_ , and that are shipping two strangers, only because the guy is hot and stupid, while the girl is clumsy and ugly.”

“The kiss was a nice one, though.”

“Ok, it was, but come on. The guy has been such a shit, she should have hit him harder.” Shae has already pulled her t-shirt off, and Tyrion finds a bit difficult to concentrate on the mobile she’s showing him. “Look, they’ve just posted another picture of her, Brienne, and it has already an infinity of _smiles._ It seems KL’s airport, the blond sack of suet on the background must be another of those _Braime_ shippers. She does look really a fanatic one, doesn’t she?”

“Fuck. This is aunt Genna”, he says, stupefied.

“Is this your aunt? Really?”, Shae recuperates her mobile, narrows her eyes and shrugs. “She seems a nice person, in the end.”

“She is.” Tyrion is already sick of speaking about his family, even if auntie is auntie, “You will like her a lot, and you’ll like even more the generous gift she’ll send us for our wedding.”

Shae laughs, laughs for what seems an eternity, but then she kisses him. A kiss worth a billion views. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, Tyrion and Shae deserve a song, Mrs Peggy Lee's "Why don't you do right?" 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4uTcw_A80Bo 
> 
> Or in Jessica Rabbit's unforgettable version: 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yy5THitqPBw


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV

**Day 1**

**32 hours after the kiss**

Their flight has been cancelled, and a crone - a crone! - has just taken a picture of her from her red-plastic seat.

This evening is just the proper ending of another awful day, and Brienne doesn’t want to be present while her father bickers with some innocent steward.

Well, the man doesn’t seem that innocent, and he doesn’t’ seem a steward, either. Even from that distance, the man against whom her father is shouting resemble the boy that has kissed her. His whiskers share the same, pure brightness.

Brienne covers her face with both her hands, when the two men become an only, confused mix of legs and arms on the ground. She must run and divide them, before they…

“No, no, my sweetheart, let them fight. Men like a bit of healthy sparring, from time to time.” Brienne turns, and the woman smiles at her. The same smile she has reserved to her in the coffee shop, and Brienne wants only to be swallowed by a dragon but dragons have longtime disappeared. “Gods, I’m too old and fat to run behind long legged girls, so, please, be kind and find me a glass of water. We have to talk, sweetheart, talk a lot about Jaime.”

“Jaime?”

The woman bursts out laughing. “Yes, my beloved nephew Jaime Lannister. A fool, well, a complete fool but also a knight, deep down. You haven’t still seen the video or read something online, have you? You should have, my sweetheart, you should have.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV

**Day 1**

**33 hours after the kiss**

He's wearing a blue suit, and he's so absurdly handsome, that she’d like to hide and look at him, secretly. Brienne’s not used to hide, though.

“Jaime?” It’s so strange to be here with him. In an airport, her father and his father being somewhere, out of sight, probably both under custody.

“Wench.”

“My name’s Brienne.”

“Oh. Ok, Brienne,” he lowers his head, but his eyes are still there, on her, burning. “I-I’m sorry Brienne. The kiss, I mean, it has been all a horrible mistake.”

A mistake. Of course. She has always known it has been only a terrible thing, and she’s not going to allow tears to pour down her freckled cheeks and drown her dignity. The poor empty pouch that once was her dignity.

“It’s all right. You’ve just apologized, I accept your apologies. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” His voice is strangely hoarse. The air conditioning, no doubt about it. It’s so cold in this stupid, crowded airport. Too crowded, with people and illusions.

“I-I’m sorry for your nose, I was glad to hear I haven’t broken it.”

He rubs his nose, as if he recalls only now to have a nose, a swollen and purple one. “Who told you, Brienne? Aunt Genna?” 

She nods. “Yes, your aunt. She’s a very kind woman.”

“A very nice one, yes. A bit crazy, maybe. She has weird ideas, sometimes,” he looks at her so intensely, that Brienne blushes, irremediably. She’s oddly numb, she has lost the contact with her giant feet or with her hands, but she has to know, she has to try. 

“Your aunt has strange theories, yes.” The strangest theories, about them. About Jaime and her. Brienne waits, waits more than her stomach can stand. He simply stares at her, and says nothing. Because there’s nothing to say, and she’s tired, and cold. “Well, goodbye Jaime. I don’t think we’re going to meet again, so… good luck. Honestly.”

“Do you know where you can put your honesty, wench?" Brienne raises her eyes, but her rage freezes, and she's shocked by what she sees. He looks upset, and desperate. "So, it’s true you’re moving. Giving up to your scholarship. How can you be that stupid, wench, if you wish not to see me around, just tell it clearly and I’ll change University and city and…”

It can’t be.

Mrs. Lannister can’t be right, and Brienne’s a fool only to take her theories into account.

A fool who talks too much. “It’s not that I can’t stand your sight," she says, flustered. How she hates her own words, her flush, her perpetual inadequacy. "It’s nought you can change, though. The video, they all have seen it…”

“… and you worry about some stupid jerks while a Lannister doesn’t care, mustn’t care, about the opinion of the sheep.”

“Lannister, you’ve just said, but I’m a Tarth.”

“Would it be such a shame to be a Lannister? Of course, it would be, for miss perfection, miss I’ve-never-been-kissed-and-I’m-so-proud-of-it. Gods, if you’re a coward wench, fleeing away, without leaving me the time to explain, nor…”

“You know nothing, you arrogant pup, you’re… hateful.”

“Better hateful than hypocrite. The kiss, it has been really a great kiss. The greatest kiss ever. Everybody can see it, aunt Genna is right.”

“Right about what?”

“Oh, you did like it, and you do like me, wench, even if you’re too stubborn to yield.”

“I don’t like you, I hate you.”

“No, wench, you hate the such of Connington and Hunt and I still haven’t found the latter, but Red Ronnet Connington, oh, I grant you he will bother you never more.” 

Brienne looks at him as if she has never truly seen him. The knuckles of his right hand are scratched and red, and there’s something dark, unknown and dangerous in Jaime Lannister's glance - and, Gods save her, that wild green thrills her.

“You do like me, wench. A bit, just a bit, maybe,” he’s whispering, now. In the summer nights, under the fresh cotton sheets, he probably whispers in the same soft way to his woman. “It may a start, maybe, wench. Who knows, we can work it out, and I may even get to love you, one day, and, such a nonsense, _you_ may even get to love me, one day.”

“I-I don’t how what love is, I fear.” It’s not a lie. She has heard some songs, and lingered on old, dusty legends. No more than this.

“Me neither, wench - well, Brienne.” His hair looks so soft, and _Brienne_ sounds well on his lips. She does remember those lips of his, she has dreamt of those lips, and let her fingers brush away her loneliness while dreaming about them. “It’s stupid, Brienne, I thought I’ve been in love with a girl, but it seems a century ago, and it seems I’ve always been wrong. I'm really messed up, and I shouldn't.” 

Her eyes widen, as he reaches for her hand. Her hand is too big, calloused, chilled and absurdly sweated, he has no reasons to hold her hand. 

“I shouldn't be here, and say the things I'm gonna say. But I'm a hateful, selfish man, and I wanna know what love is, Brienne. I want you to show me. I know you can, you can show me. ” She starts, and he hisses like she’s hitting him again. “If you’d like, only if you do want to…”

“Ok.” Her voice is no more than a murmur. A beg.

“Ok?” 

“I wanna know, too,” she bits her lower lip and tastes blood. “With a bit of…. calm. If you think it can be a nice thing, me and you, taking it slow, not too slow, I mean…”

“I’m not that good in thinking, wench, nor in waiting.” Jaime grins, his thumb now stroking her lip. He’s careful not to touch the new scratch on it. “I’ll try, ok?” His touch is really hell. She’s aching. She wants… she wants him.

“Ok.” Brienne moans, and she’s surprised by the fact she can moan in such a needy way. He’s surprised, too, and unbearably smug. She already detests his being so smug. It can’t work between them, it can’t. They’re going to fight, all the time, fight and struggle to find again a truce, day after day, for the rest of their wretched lives. Brienne furrows her brows. “Now kiss me, you damned lion, or go back to your dreadful Rock.”

He’s so exasperatingly beautiful when he grins at her that way, enough beautiful for the both of them maybe, and when they kiss for the second time, Brienne thinks that he’s a hopeless liar. The stolen kiss, their first kiss, wasn’t the greatest kiss ever - the second is already better, and the third is good beyond imagination.

“I got it, Bronn, I filmed them, let’s go and post it,” someone shouts.

Jaime gasps, and breaks from their embrace. He’d want to run behind the slender girl and his dark-haired companion, but Brienne grasps his arm, and she’s stronger than him. The sooner he realizes it, the better.

“I have nothing to do about it, wench, please, believe me, B-Brienne, t-trust me,” he stammers, and she thinks that kissing a Lannister is really an evil thing. It makes you change into a liar. Because it’s not true she doesn’t know what love is, maybe. She knows. Love is the sudden fear in Jaime’s eyes - the fear of losing her, the ugliest freak ever. Love is the bittersweet taste she feels on her tongue, just now, and the excruciating dampness between her thighs. 

“I trust you, Jaime. Let them go, I don’t care, do you?”

He doesn’t care, either. He has something else to do. Something better, and with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you need just talking, and maybe also a nice aunt who tells you that you need talking, and not only kissing or punching. :)
> 
> Here you can find the song echoing in this chapter:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=raNGeq3_DtM 
> 
> Foreigner - 'I Want To Know What Love Is'


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's POV

**Day 23.**

**535 hours after the kiss.**

They fight. They fight quite all the time. For an instance, she hits his nerves when he tells her - not that she’s _beautiful_ , because he doesn’t need new bruises, but - that he likes her legs, or her lips. Every time he comes out with some compiment, Brienne frowns at him, wary, drifting her glance to the wall, or to a painting, and doesn’t believe a single word. It’s frustrating, because Jaime actually thinks now that she’s beautiful. First it has been the wench's eyes, and her lips. Then her legs, her buttocks, firm and perfect to fit in his hand, or her thighs, he’ll die for her thighs, white, and smooth and full of freckles, and he’s in love with the shape of her.

Jaime’s in love with their fights, too. Because they fight, only to make peace a bit later, and making peace is so good. Kisses, and hungry touches, until they’re both exhausted, and sleep, sweated and hugged, wherever. Last night a dusty bear skin has been their mattress. Luckily it was thick and soft, the brave, deaf brute, but Jaime’s back is aching. It’s the wench’s fault, obviously, she’s damn’ boring.

Outside, the sun was setting, the evening star was showing shyly her light, and the wench spoiled it all, with her eternal ranting about studying and not only smooching, when Jaime had just passed brilliantly the exam with Professor Cressen, who likes only the Stannis-Baratheon-like kind of students. Of course, he had to tease her, and the wench had to look at him as if she were the Maiden Queen herself, so he had been forced to take her to the ground and straddle her. If not for her tricky nature, Jaime would have won, but, no, the wench had just eaten cherries and blackberries, and her crooked teeth were all spotted of pink and blue, and she tasted too foolishly good. 

Brienne always tastes foolishly good, and he’d like to go with her to a beach, and lick the salt on her neck, or behind her earlobes. She goes crazy when he nibbles at her earlobes, and squeaks like a mouse, a squirrel more than six feet tall. She’s such a ridiculous oaf of a wench. She laughs and calls him “pantyslayer”, when her panties are always on, stubborn, soaked wet and smelling of heaven, but still there.

They’re taking it slow, and sometimes that make Jaime tense more than he may ever admit.

It’s not because of the sex. They’re having sex - making love, she says - in a certain way, exploring their bodies in a panting, breathless way every night, and even when the sun is high, a lot of times. The issue is not her maidenhead. Jaime wants her desperately, he dreams of her even more now that she sleeps in his arms, and sometimes they both wake up because he has come while asleep, even if he has already come in her hand, or on the incredibly whiteness of her breasts – but he can wait. He’s not a patient man, but he can wait for her walls to crumble, one after one, he can wait until the sun sets in the east if she needs time.

The issue is that Jaime Lannister has issues, big ones, deep down he’s absurdly glad that they’re besieged and that they can’t make a step outside without a crowd following them, so they have to hide, and she can be only for him - and that’s selfish, insane. He knows she’s suffering about it. And the more time they spend together, the more he’s afraid she can understand who he is, who is actually is, she can understand that she’s far too better then him and that she deserves more. 

“What’s up, Jaime? Still worrying about the video?” She has awakened, but he was too busy in brooding and stroking her messy hair to realize it. 

No way to tell her about his silly ideas. She’s far too practical, and good sensed, living her life day by day. So, Jaime nods and wait for her to sigh. The wench sighs, in fact, the weight of her body shifting for a blink from his body, and her eyes are chained to his, now. No matter if he can see them every day and every minute, he can’t get used to all that blue, and he knows he will never get used to it.

“Well, Jaime, let them be, and let’s have a walk, this morning. I’d like a true coffee.”

“Why? What’s wrong with my coffee?”

“It tastes a bit of burnt,” she says, and blushes. She’s right to blush, Brienne-too-honest. “Now, I vexed you.”

“Noooo. I’m not vexed, at all. Would I still bear your unbearable weight on my sore muscles, wench, if I got vexed?”

“It’s just a coffee, Jaime, and I know you make it with care.”

“I don’t make it with care.”

She furrows one eyebrow. Her brows are almost white and inconsistent, yet the wench uses them so often, and damned well. And Jaime can hear her heart going like a train, because she’s wearing only her stupid freckles and her even more stupid panties.

“I don’t make it with care, wench,” he repeats, the best part of his body inexorably aching, the best part of his neurons already drunk of her light. And it’s only early morning. “I make that fucking coffee every fucking day with all my fucking love, for you and you only, and I know it’s shit, it’s totally a shit because I never made it for anyone else, and I will never make it for anyone else in this fucking time and in this fucking space, nor any other fucking time and fucking place, ok?”

“Ok, Jaime.”

Ok. Not even the slightest attempt of a fight. This wench wants really to drive him mad.

“Good. Now, dress, wench. We’re going to leave this stinking flat and have a decent coffee, so put your best t-shirt on.” He spanks her, and she makes out an indignant cry, but she’s giggling, inside, like a true girl. The rays wrap her, and Jaime thinks she has more the shape of a girl, today. He’s really in love with the shape of her. If only she were a bit smarter, just a bit less clumsy. “The blue one, Brienne.”

“Why the blue one?”

He snorts. “I’m ready, wench, so put that blessed blue t-shirt and come here. Selfie time.”

“A selfie?” She looks aghast.

“Let them be, you’ve said. Let us have fun, I say. Let’s make selfies and post them, let’s have a website, and every other stupid internet black hole. Tyrion will help us as soon as he’ll come back from his honeymoon.”

“That’s just an evil dream, and I wanna wake up.”

“No, it’s a war, wench, and we’ll win it, battle after battle. People wanna our pictures? We'll drown them with picture, videos, everything, so that terrible Asha and her boyfriend, Bronn, will be forced to stop stalking us, because no one will ever pay them for what they can have free. Well, free, we have to think about it. We could sell the right to film our wedding.”

“You have completely lost your mind.”

“Ok. No selling. Charity. We’ll use our wedding to support something good.”

“No way, we’re not going to wed.”

“No way?”

Sometimes, who says _no way_ , _absolutely not_ , or so on, yields quite easily in the end, according to Jaime’s experience, but he’s Lannister, and Lannisters lie, so he puts on display his best sad smile. Brienne pales then becomes so red, that she matches the crimson t-shirt she has put on. Because she never listens to him, the mulish wench, yet Jaime is not displeased. The _Lions of Lannisport_ are roaring very nicely on her little teats, and he likes the way her chest is raising and lowering frantically.

“I-I just wanted to say we’re too young to even think about wedding or other… things. You have still to graduate, and I’ve just begun.”

“With your help, now we’ve discovered that I’m dyslexic and not totally an idiot, I’ll recuperate and graduate soon. About the rest, I apologize, wench, if I dared to speculate that you’re clever enough to be able to go to the University and to carry on a family while studying. And, of course, I can take care of babies at nights, to let you sleep.”

“B-babies?”, she leans, and strokes his forehead so gently that Jaime’s heart melts, and his pout almost drops off. Almost. There’s too much on stake. “You may have a touch of fever, Jaime.” 

“Fever. Of course. I must be ill, or shallow, or whatever. Sorry, wench, if I thought you were caring a bit about me.”

“Caring. You know what I feel, Jaime, but I’m only nineteen.”

“I just know you don’t like my coffee. And, _nineteen._ Come on, Brienne, find another excuse, in nineteen years Princess Daenerys had the Waters Gardens realized for all children of her land, no matter if highborn or lowborn, and now the same gardens are a ruin, so told you that friend of yours, the dornish wrestler.”

“Obara isn’t a wrestler. With the spear, she’s one of the most gorgeous athletes…” 

“And you sent her ass in the dust already twice, wench, but, we were not talking about your skills. The Brienne I met in that stupid coffee shop is not a wench who likes boasting, or who likes ignoring the cries of the children who need back their beloved gardens, and…”

“Stop this folly, Jaime! You’re trying to trick me into this… thing.”

“Oh, thank you, Brienne. All I want is to wed you, and you reduce it to a trick, thank you sincerely.”

“Jaime!” She’s trembling, now. Angry, confused and something else. “I may take it all into account, ok? With a bit of calm.”

“Ok,” he smiles. “Slowly.”

“Slowly, she repeats, like a stupid parrot and Jaime pulls the stupid parrot in his arms again, because he needs to kiss her, right now, and when they part, her lips are swollen and curved in the sweetest smile ever. He steals a picture of her smile, before she can remember that she must always plays the role of the sullen girl, and she complains.

“You’re not going to post it, are you?”

“I’m not posting it, wench, you’re too ugly in it,” he lies, and feigns to delete the picture.

Posting that picture, such an odd idea. Jaime would never post the picture in which the wench has just accepted his cloak on her broad shoulders. He’s grinning, now, and he’s hungry, terribly hungry. He can wait for Brienne, Jaime will always wait for the wench or follow the wench, but he can’t wait for eating pancakes, a ton of pancakes with chocolate and cream - and a good coffee, finally. Sad to say, but the wench is right about the coffee he makes. She’s always right, just a bit too thick-headed.

Jaime opens the door, his hand in hers, and shrugs.

The wench has faults, a lot of faults, she's not 100% perfect. She's perfect for him, though.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kevan's POV

**Day 210.**

**5051 hours after the kiss.**

“Kevan, why are you so pale?”

“Genna, you must help me. Please. It’s Jaime, again troubles, with Jaime. From Dorne.”

Genna can be quick, notwithstanding her weight. She runs after him, her husband Emmon following like an old panting dog. “Kevan, don’t make me fear the worst, has Jaime done something stupid like dumping the girl during his holidays? I mean, he can’t be that stupid…”

“Worse, Genna, worse. He has wed her, on a beach, and the video has already a million views.”

She stops. She’s smiling. “Kevan of House Lannister of Casterly Rock, you’re telling me that we’re going to celebrate two weddings in few moons and you call it _troubles_?”

“Oh, Genna, hush, Tywin doesn’t want that Tyrion’s marriage is mentioned here at the Rock. And Selwyn Tarth is already in Tywin’s solar. He’s going to kill him, this time.”

“Don’t be such dramatic, Kev,” she moves, too slowly, Gods bless his lovely sister. “Selwyn has broken Tywin’s arm at the airport, it’s true, but he still wears the mark of Tywin’s fangs on his thick neck. He will think twice before starting a new skirmish with a lion of the Rock.”

Kevan isn’t that sure. The shouts are so loud to pass through the thick wooden door of his brother’s solar. He misses Tygett and his shotgun, and sighs. As they enter, Genna shoves him and reaches for the mobile and the scandalous video, careless of the objects flying everywhere. That porcelain vase was ancient, and very rare. It was, before landing at Kevan’s feet.

“Oh. They’re so beautiful. Even Tyrion seems taller, at Shae’s side, and Shae's wearing the ruby and diamonds set I gifted her. How cute. Ooooooh. Look at how Jaime is moved, Ty. My Gods, Jaime’s crying, now, just a bit, but he’s crying, and she’s using her improvised veil to help him wiping the tears. The veil suits Brienne and her freckles, she has to wear it, but a proper one, long and embroidered with cloth-of-gold, even at the Rock, at the very long and very costly ceremony I’m going to organize, Kev. I’ll need Dorna’s help, and yours. Emmon, send a message to Gerion, he has to reverse course, soon.”

“There will be no ceremony at the Rock, nor elsewhere. That scum, he tricked my little star into it,” yells Selwyn Tarth, looking furious.

“Little, he calls her little…”, growls Tywin, his hand still on the golden paper knife.

“She’s not even twenty, my Brie, while your damned Jaime is so much older. Twenty-six or even more, and still a student.”

“My nephew has graduated last moon, the travel to Dorne was my gift for him and for his girlfriend, no, sorry, his wife, for having helped him so much. I must confess I don’t like your tone, Mr. Selwyn, and you Ty, you should shame yourself, you both should shame yourselves, two grand-parents behaving like naughty kids.”

“Grand-what?”, roars Tywin, and Selwyn Tarth has gone mute. He looks like a big fish, open-mouthed and breathless on a sassy shore.

“Oh. Tywin, I’m just your little sis, but I can recognize a bump, after having carried four children for that donkey of my husband.” _Or for someone else_ , thinks Kevan, but he’s too absorbed in looking again the video posted by a certain Sand Snake, now. It’s a bump, a lovely little moon rising, Genna’s right. 

“Her name will be Johanna, Johanna Lannister,” Tywin says, majestic.

“No, her name will be Alyssa, like Brienne’s mother. Alyssa Tarth.” There are daggers in Selwyn’s blue eyes.

“What about twins? Johanna _and_ Alyssa, Lannist..Tarth”, breaks in Genna’s husband, coming out of his cloak of invisibility.

“Lannistarth. Sometimes, you really make me recall why I married you, Emmon,” Genna laughs and Emmon blushes like a maiden, but Kevan’s eyes are only on Selwyn and Tywin. The giant from Tarth is watching the video from above Tywin’s shoulders, a hand on Tywin’s shoulder, and Tywin.

Tywin is looking down, too, at the mobile.

He’s smiling, Tywin’s smiling. 


End file.
